


you and me and my rib-caged brain

by MonocerosRex



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Biting, Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Enemies to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Sexual Assault, Teeth, Temporary Character Death, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Stiles Stilinski, Vampires, Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes Don't Leave, all that good stuff, deaton is a cryptic asshole as ususal, further details in notes, not graphic, teenagers being teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-03-19 12:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18969175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonocerosRex/pseuds/MonocerosRex
Summary: Deaton looked mildly surprised when the pair walked into the swirl of disinfectant and fur, which was extreme, for him.“I see you’ve become a member of the living dead, Mr. Stilinski. That must be very uncomfortable for you.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the google docs title for this fic is 'if i write a vampire au will i have to commit seppuku to restore my honour?' honestly i don't know why i front, teeth are my kink and blood drinking is hot. it took me till 24 to accept that i apparently am just into vampires. dammit. i thought i was cooler than this. 
> 
> title from Fly Low, Carrion Crow by Two Gallants
> 
> tw for sexual assault in the form of forced kissing, as well as general creepy behaviour, and the (temporary) death of the pov character

“Seriously dude my diet is terrible, I’m sure my blood is like, cordial. With an Adderall aftertaste.”

The vampire in front of him chuckled, hands like stone around Stiles’ upper arms. His eyes crinkled merrily; he looked more like a car salesman than the undead, which helped to explain why it had taken the pack so long to recognise him. “Oh child, if only you could know just how good you smell to me,” he leered, inhaling as he bent to brush damp kisses across Stiles’ throat. 

Stiles cringed away as best he could trapped in the steel vice of the creature’s embrace. “Y-you know, my dad always told me I wasn’t allowed to date someone older.” Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pretend his voice wasn’t shaking like the rest of him. “I think it goes double it they’re older than the fucking country.”

The vampire laughed again, a shockingly normal sound. “I’m only a hundred and eighty, you know,” he said, leaning back to smile happily into Stiles’ face. “But my sire was triple that, so maybe the stereotypes aren’t wrong.”

Stiles swallowed. “And what about the whole garlic thing? Is that a stereotype? Because I’m not gonna lie I don’t know how I would live without garlic bread.”

“You wouldn’t be living at all. That’s the point.” The vampire dragged a hand down Stiles’ back and grabbed his ass. 

Stiles jerked. “The only ‘point’ I care about is the one that’ll be in your back when my pack comes and stakes you,” Stiles threatened weakly, trying to ignore the squirming disgust mixing with the fear in his gut.

“Mmm, if either of us is getting ‘staked’ it won’t be me, sweetling.” The man winked, licking his lips. “Now, hurry up and tell me what I want to know.”

“I already told you I’ll never do that,” Stiles grunted, renewing his efforts to twist away.

“You will if you want to live, handsome. I can only resist draining you so long, and the sooner I get those pesky dogs out of the way the better.”

“Why do you want to kill the pack, anyway?” Stiles demanded in a shaking voice, praying his friends turned up soon.

“So I can claim the territory for myself, of course. A nemeton? How delightfu—ugh!” The creature’s melodious voice broke as Stiles slammed his knee into his junk as hard as he could, but his grip didn’t loosen. Stiles felt a fresh wave of fear fuzz his vision as the vampire started laughing almost immediately. A hit like that would have laid a werewolf out for a few seconds, long enough to get loose. Even the alpha wasn’t immune. If this thing was more powerful than an alpha…

“Oh! Oh my goodness!” The man chortled, an actual  _ tear _ escaping one eye. “I just love you! You know what, fuck it, I’m going to keep you. I can alway kill you again when you start to annoy me.” Eyes lit up in anticipation the man sank his fangs into his own lip, tearing it savagely until the blood stained his wide smile.

Praying he’d misunderstood Stiles flinched back, feeling a muscle in his neck strain as he struggled violently to stay out of reach. 

But the vampire was inexorable. Getting a hand in Stiles’ hair he held him perfectly still as he crushed their mouths together. A wave of desperate nausea crashed over Stiles as he pried open his mouth with his tongue, blood and drool dripping down their chins and pooling in Stiles’ mouth. Choking and coughing Stiles fought not to swallow but he was  _ drowning,  _ there was so much blood—and then his reflexes took over and it was done. 

Collapsing to his knees when the man let go Stiles retched onto the floor of the warehouse but it was too late. Before he’d had time to pull in a proper breath the vampire was on him, knocking him flat and pressing his larger body against him, fangs piercing Stiles’ throat.

Stiles screamed. “N-no! God, please! I can’t—I don’t want to be a vampire!” Kicking out desperately Stiles tore at the older man, but he was immovable. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but the fluttering of his heart in his ears, already weakening, felt like the end. The stench of blood was thick and sour in the air and his vision was already starting to darken and Stiles  _ didn’t want to die.  _ “Scott! Scott!  _ Dad! _ ” Stiles cried, but there was no one. He held out hope, long after his protests weakened, after his struggles ceased, calling and crying and begging them to come. 

But in the end his words trickled away. They weren’t coming. Stiles stared sightlessly up at the warehouse ceiling, feeling the cold concrete beneath him and the colder man above. He was going to die here, in this cold place. Alone. 

His fear had become distant. Everything had become distant. He was so  _ tired.  _ He just. Wanted. It to be over.

His dad would never forgive him.

He closed his eyes.

 

***

 

The next thing he knew he was dying again, and god, it was so much more painful this time. His whole  _ body  _ was aflame with it, the agony, the  _ need.  _ He was bereft, missing a limb, an organ, something essential, and god it hurt. But—  

There.

That was what he needed, right there. That sound, that wet rhythm, that  _ smell.  _

Between one moment and the next the vampire was across the room, pinning food to the ground. It struggled weakly but he barely felt it, focused on the pale skin under his fingers, between his teeth. A moment of pure bliss, his fangs breaking the surface in a perfect glide and  _ there. _

The blood filled his mouth in a hot rush and the vampire would have cried if he knew how. It was  _ perfect, perfect,  _ assuaging the pain, saving his life. There were hands on him, all over him, but they didn’t matter. He gulped down mouthful after mouthful, hunger unceasing, until he felt the beat start to slow, to quiet. Yes. 

And then he was being dragged away, separated from his salvation. The vampire screamed and fought, too far gone to do more than struggle back towards the blood. One of his claws caught skin and then—  

More blood. Somehow he was standing, one of his attackers become a victim, the taste slightly different but so, so good.  _ More,  _ was his only thought,  _ more more moremoremoreneed _ more _. _

By the time this one’s heart began to slow the hunger had started to recede, just far enough to make room for thought and sound. A bloody arm was shoved in his face and he gladly released his meal in exchange, teeth sinking in through skin and muscle. There was heat running down his front, pouring from between his lips. The sound of shouting and heartbeats echoed in his skull but as long as there was blood in his mouth he didn’t care. He focused on it, spurting over his tongue in time with its owner’s heartbeat. 

One of the beats didn’t sound like the rest. It wasn’t a heart, a sound not of liquid but air, a word repeated over and over, always in time with  _ someone’s  _ pulse, hurting him, distracting him, worming its way in—

_ “STILES!”  _

 

***

 

Stiles tore himself away from Scott, back hitting the far wall several metres away. The taste of them was still on his tongue, in his nose, the same hunger twisting just below the surface. 

Scott stood closest, propped up against Isaac, blood dripping from his fingers. Boyd’s neck was healing where he sat next to Erica, but it looked as if it had been torn half open. Jackson was watching him closely from by the door, and Allison and Lydia were absent. Derek was also nowhere to be seen, even though Stiles somehow  _ knew  _ he had been the first to be bitten. All of them were staring at him with identical expressions of horror. 

He could smell it. He could smell their adrenaline, their shock, their disgust. A lingering note of grief from when they’d thought he was dead. 

When they’d known. 

Stiles stared down at his hands, now tipped with delicate claws, long and wicked and stained with blood. He could hear the ringing silence in his chest, a deafening counterpoint to all the heartbeats in the room. 

“The other vampire?” He croaked around his teeth, sure he would be terrified if he weren’t so cold. 

“We burned him,” Boyd replied after a pause. Ah. Stiles could smell the chemicals now. And the ash. 

“We, um, we should take you to Deaton,” Scott said, voice unsure. He looked like he didn’t know whether to approach or run, but his eyes were worried. 

Stiles nodded mutely and pushed himself up, silently leading the way out of the warehouse with all eyes on him. 

At first no one followed, and then Erica spoke up. “Oh, snap out of it you guys, it’s not a funeral!” But her voice was strained. 

In the end it was Jackson who voiced what they were all thinking. 

“Isn’t it?”

 

***

 

The drive to Deaton’s was awkward. It was just him and Scott, though the scent of every pack member clung to the upholstery, comforting him.

“So, looks like you’re not the token human anymore!” Scott said cheerfully, his casual acceptance of Stiles’ transformation seemingly genuine. “You always did used to say this place was on a hellmouth. Do you think your skin sparkles?” He chuckled.

Stiles didn’t respond. He was too busy listening to the sounds of the engine, the rustle of Scott’s clothes, a bat flying overhead outside.

Deaton looked mildly surprised when the pair walked into the swirl of disinfectant and fur, which was extreme, for him.

“I see you’ve become a member of the living dead, Mr. Stilinski. That must be very uncomfortable for you.” Stiles snorted bitterly. “I’m guessing you two came to me for answers. Well, luckily for you the Hale vault actually contained one of the only texts on your kind in existence.”

“Lucky me,” Stiles croaked, some of the sarcasm scratched away by how ragged his voice was.

Deaton was unperturbed. “Indeed. Well, judging by your face I’d say you’ve figured out you need blood to survive. If you don’t drain your victims dangerously you’ll mostly likely have to feed every day or so. Possibly more often in these early weeks.” Stiles shuddered and didn’t bother trying to hide it. “Control will be hard for you, at least at first. It isn’t like being a werewolf, where one needs only to keep a hold of one’s emotions. It’s more similar to training yourself not to breathe in when you’re suffocating; a survival reflex.”

Stiles squinted at him. “Like gagging?”

Deaton permitted himself a smile. “Something like that. Is your sire alive?”

“No. The pack burned him to ash,” said Scott, rubbing his arm like he could feel the fire on his own skin.

“That’s good. Fire and beheading are really your only weakness now, Stiles, although I’d avoid silver if I were you; it burns the skin, and can be fatal if ingested. You don’t need to fear the sun, although I believe a tendency towards nocturnalism is common. That shouldn’t be a problem, as you won’t really need the sleep.”

“Wait. I don’t need to sleep?” 

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Scott exclaimed.

Deaton regarded him steadily. “You’ll find there are very few things you  _ need  _ anymore, Stiles. Blood and a head on your shoulders are about the extent of it.”

Stiles swallowed and looked away. “I’m immortal.” It wasn’t really a question. He could feel it; he wasn’t  _ alive,  _ not the way he used to be. He was just… suspended. 

Deaton shrugged placidly. “It depends on your definition.”

Suddenly exhausted Stiles scrubbed his hands over his face, wincing as dried blood flaked into his lap. “I need a shower and to sleep for a hundred years,” Stiles sighed, shoving himself to his feet. Scott chuckled like it was a joke, waving to Dr. Deaton. 

“Hold on, boys. You might find this to be useful while you wait to get your training wheels off, so to speak,” Deaton said, crossing the room to pull a long, narrow wooden stake out of a cupboard. Scott balked but before he could protest Deaton continued. “This stake is made out of mountain ash. If you drive it through Stiles’ heart it will put in him in stasis, a kind of sleep. It won’t harm him, though he won’t be able to remove it himself.” Scott still looked upset so Stiles took it from him on his way out the back door. It was lighter than he’d expected. 

“Oh, and one more thing,” the vet called like the living cliché that he was. The boys turned back. “I wouldn’t go home just yet if I were you. Wait until you have better control before exposing your father to your midnight cravings.”

Ice shot down Stiles’ spine and he nodded, swallowing. Deaton closed the door on them, leaving them in the dark. Stiles could still perfectly make out Scott’s frown. 

“It’s… going to have to be Derek’s, dude. Everyone else has vulnerable human families.”

Stiles sighed and climbed into the car. “Yeah. I know.”

 

***

 

Derek stared at them, arms crossed over his chest. His neck was completely unmarked, but he didn’t seem inclined to let either of them in. 

“He’s still Stiles, man,” Scott was saying. “You’re the only one who can take him while he’s learning control.”

“And why, exactly, do you think I’d want an out of control vampire in my house, Scott?”

There was something off about the way Derek watched him, but Stiles was too tired to bother figuring it out. The argument had be going in circles for a while now, and it wasn’t as if he could really blame Derek.

“Look,” he cut in, speaking over Scott’s latest attempt at arousing Derek’s sympathy. “I don’t fucking care right now Derek. Just let me take a shower and then stake me.” He tossed the implement in question over, Derek snatching it out of the air effortlessly. “I can’t bother you then. Stick me in a closet or something, whatever. Just let me get this shit off me and get some rest, I’m fucking begging you.” Derek stared at him, weighing his options. Stiles sighed. “I died tonight, Derek. Please just let me in.”

Derek’s jaw clenched. “Are you still hungry.”

Stiles shook his head. “Just tired.”

Derek closed his eyes, but after a moment he was stepping aside. Mumbling goodnight to Scott Stiles trudged in, making his way straight to the bathroom in the back. His shirt was glued to his skin with gore so he just stepped under the water fully dressed. He hadn’t given it time to heat up, but the cold shower felt balmy on his skin. Shuddering Stiles remembered how cold his sire had felt, like lying down with an ice sculpture.

The water swirled red and brown as he struggled out of his shirt, not caring when he heard Derek approach. He was fighting to get the button on his jeans through the swollen denim without tearing anything when the door opened for a moment and a rustle of cloth hit the tiled floor. 

In the end Stiles just tore his jeans off with a frustrated grunt. They ripped with no more resistance than wet paper and Stiles had to hold in a sob at his lost humanity. 

He scrubbed at his skin under the cold spray for a long time, constantly finding little spots of blood he’d missed. It still smelled good—great even, comforting and delicious like his mother’s cooking.

Eventually, though, exhaustion won out. Stumbling from the stall Stiles towelled himself off half-heartedly. Turning to grab the clothes he suddenly regretted the cold shower; with no steam to fog up the mirror he had a perfect view of his reflection.

He looked more similar than different, which didn’t reflect how he felt at all. His skin was paler, his moles standing out like punctuation. There were shadows under his eyes, his lips bloodless around his fangs. They hadn’t retracted like his claws, poking into the soft flesh where his gums met his lip. They were longer than he’d expected. He wondered how they must have looked as he panted around them earlier, mouth stained with his friends’ blood.

The bite mark looked years old, two points of ragged white scar tissue high on his throat. A quick inspection of his body showed his other scars were still there, though he doubted he’d ever get any more. 

Turning away from the mirror Stiles pulled on the henley and sweatpants with trembling fingers. There was a thought at the back of his mind, something he’d touched on with Deaton, scrabbling to rise to the surface. Stiles shoved it back down ruthlessly. He knew the moment he allowed himself to think about it he’d lose what tenuous control he had.

Derek was in the living room when he emerged, staring into an empty coffee cup like it held the answer to the meaning of life. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said, voice still a little rough. 

Derek jerked, the cup clunking to the floor. Stiles watched him drop into a defensive crouch as if in slow motion. Before the movement would have been a blur, but instinctively Stiles knew he was faster. He could smell Derek’s adrenaline, his unease and embarrassment as he realised who it was, heart rate still a little high even after he straightened. 

Stiles felt a bitter amusement at how their positions had been reversed. He raised his eyebrows mockingly. Derek growled in warning and Stiles found he could hear more shade of sound in it than he’d ever been able to pick up in a human. 

“Boo,” he said belatedly, heading towards the couch. Derek watched him like the predator he was. 

Throwing himself down onto the couch Stiles turned to look up at him. “Are you going to stake me?”

Derek narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to?” 

Stiles shrugged. “I feel perfectly in control right now. I’ll need blood eventually though. I assume you won’t be making a donation...?” Derek growled and flashed his eyes. “That’s what I thought. If I start to get hungry I’ll call one of the wolves, if I’m proactive about it I shouldn’t lose control again.”

Derek didn’t look thrilled but seemed to decide he didn’t want a staked vampire in his living room anymore than an animated one. “Pack meeting here tomorrow,” he said gruffly, disappearing up the stairs into his bedroom.

Lying down on the couch Stiles took a  deep breath. He could smell Derek and Peter everywhere, with an underlying hint of  _ pack _ from the last meeting. The clothes smelled like detergent and his skin smelled of soap. It was calming. Deaton had said he didn’t need sleep, and Stiles could feel that it wouldn’t hurt him to stay awake. He wasn’t sleepy, just—exhausted. But lying awake with his thoughts sounded infinitely worse, so Stiles closed his eyes and listened to Derek’s heartbeat above him, and before he knew it he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the whole mountain ash stake thing is borrowed from vampire diaries, i _think_. i haven't actually _seen_ the vampire diaries, but i read a crossover once, and it had this whole concept of "daggering" which worked very well for my purposes here.
> 
> this was supposed to be a oneshot, and i wrote about half of it more than two years ago, but finally i thought fuck it, i'll just post something and maybe the comments and kudos will motivate me to finish. so if you liked it please tell me! your sweet words are the only thing that will get this wip written!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the entire time i was writing this my brain was banging two trashcan lids together screaming VIRGINITY ISN’T REAL, VIRGINITY ISN’T REAL. but neither are vampires and they both can make for an interesting story if you do it right. i’m hoping.

 

Stiles awoke to the sound of the fridge door opening. He could still hear Derek upstairs; a quick sniff told him the person in the kitchen was Peter. Rising from the couch Stiles padded over on unintentionally silent feet. 

Peter was dressed in an immaculate white shirt, but somehow still smelled of dirt. He was frowning into the fridge, the morning sunlight casting harsh shadows across his face. 

Cocking his head Stiles came to stand beside Peter, amused to see the fridge was completely empty. “I think you’re out of milk,” he told the older man. 

Before the first word was completely out of his mouth Peter’s hand was around his throat, eyes glowing blue. Stiles found it didn’t take much effort at all to resist, his calm slouch completely immovable. It only took a moment for Peter to recognise him. He shifted back with a fascinated smile. 

“Stiles, you seem different. Have you lost weight?”

“I’ve lost something,” Stiles replied mildly. “Looks like you’re not the only one who can rise from the dead, huh Peter?”

“Apparently not,” he laughed amusedly, his scent wafting over Stiles. Throat suddenly dry Stiles couldn’t help dropping his eyes to Peter’s throat. It wasn't lost on the older man. “I see I’m not the only one who’s feeling a bit peckish this morning,” he said with a raised eyebrow. 

“You offering?” Stiles countered, forcing himself to lean back against the bench casually. 

“No, I don’t think I’ll sacrifice myself to a baby vampire today, my boy.”

“You say that like you think it’s your decision,” Stiles said, swallowing against the itch in his throat, the ache in his stomach. 

“Oh, I think it is. Because if you attack me I’ll call for Derek, and he’ll stake you in a heartbeat.” He smirked. “So to speak.”

“What makes you think Derek has a stake?” 

“Infant, please. I know my nephew, and he would never have let a vampire into his den without one.”

Stiles frowned. “Why not?”

“Didn’t the ever-helpful Dr. Deaton tell you? Werewolves and vampires are enemies.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Really? Enemies? For fuck’s sake, my life is Twilight.”

“Mm, perhaps I overstated it. Vampires are so rare, you see; there are probably only a handful in the entire country. But they are one of the few creatures faster, stronger, and more perfectly designed for killing than werewolves. An unnatural perversion of life, the antithesis of the vital wolf. Perhaps it arose out of jealousy, perhaps as a way of protecting ourselves—I don’t pretend to know. But all born wolves are raised to hate and fear your kind.”

“So, I’m the werewolf boogeyman.” Stiles couldn't believe this was his life. 

Peter smiled. “An apt comparison. Derek is upstairs hiding under his bed, after all.”

“Shut up, Uncle Peter,” came a voice from the railing. Stiles didn’t look away from Peter. 

“You don’t look like you hate and fear me,” Stiles accused.

“Well I can’t exactly hate you for being an undead abomination, can I?”

“I don’t know, that level of hypocrisy seems perfectly in character for you.” 

“I would have preferred to see it as irony, no doubt.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Derek said, pushing his way into the kitchen and starting the coffee machine, pointedly turning his back to Stiles as if to prove he wasn’t afraid.

Stiles’ sarcastic comeback was interrupted by the arrival of Jackson, Lydia and Allison. Stiles found that now he wasn’t starving to death he could pick out the differences in their scents. Allison smelled like human, with a underlay of gun oil and determination. Lydia also smelled human, but with a hint of mulch—of grave dirt. Jackson smelled like a wolf, only colder. 

He was so distracted absorbing this new information he barely noticed Erica and Boyd’s arrival, but his attention was caught as Scott walked in with Isaac. Scott was carrying a bag of blood, obviously stolen from the hospital, and Stiles could smell it clearly. But more enticing was the scent of his companion. 

Without consciously deciding to move Stiles was suddenly in front of Isaac, standing close enough that their clothes brushed. The scent swirled around him, something between ice water after a hike and a hit of cocaine. Isaac started as he appeared, moving as if to step back, but Stiles couldn't allow that. His hands shot out, one digging into Isaac’s shoulder to keep him still, the other tangling in his curls as he pulled his head to the side.

“Isaac,” Stiles said in a low voice, bending forward to breathe him in. “You smell  _ amazing.” _

“U-um, thanks?” Isaac said, voice cracking as he tried again to tug out of Stiles’ hands. 

“Stiles, I think you should let him go,” said someone behind him, but he barely heard it. 

Touching his nose to the skin behind Isaac’s ear Stiles dragged his lips over his pulse. His blood smelled so good, something… perfect about it, something right. Like it was made for him to drink, like he was designed for Stiles to bite . 

“You’re a virgin,” Stiles whispered in revelation, the words brushing against the other boy’s skin.

Isaac whimpered then, a scared sound exactly like Stiles had made when he’d been in this position just last night. 

Jerking away Stiles gripped his sleeves to prevent himself from grabbing Isaac again. “God fuck Isaac, I’m sorry. That was really fucked up.” Isaac was watching him warily, but upon hearing the apology his shoulders relaxed a bit. 

“It’s okay. Scott said you might have trouble with control for the first few days.”

“That’s no excuse. Next time just light my hair on fire, okay? I’d deserve it.”

Isaac smiled. “Okay, next time I’ll do that.”

Stiles tried to smile back.

“Are you really a virgin?” Jackson asked obnoxiously, breaking the friendly silence. Isaac blushed and shrugged. 

“You can smell that?” Erica asked Stiles, wrinkling her nose but looking kind of fascinated. 

“I guess.”

“Sick, you’ll have to tell me all the gossip.” That made Stiles smile for real.

“Can we get this meeting started? Somehow I think there’s a lot about being a vampire I haven’t been told yet and that is a situation I find unacceptable,” snapped Lydia, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” said Scott, tossing the bag of blood at Stiles like it was a packet of Doritos and not all he had been able to think about since letting Isaac go. Forcing himself to walk into the kitchen for a mug at a human pace Stiles listened to Scott fill everyone in. The cold blood was decidedly less appetising than fresh from the vein, but it was still one of the best things Stiles has ever tasted. He tried not to devour the whole thing like a dying man but was only partially successful. 

The last drops congealing against the white porcelain made Stiles wished he could feel sick. Closing his eyes he swallowed against the lump in his throat, the terribly perfect taste lingering on his tongue. He focused on his friends’ voices and rinsed out the cup, trying not to think.

“Should we get more of those mountain ash stakes, do you think?” Allison was asking as he returned to the room. “My father might have some and they could be useful.”

“I’m sure one will be enough for emergencies, Allison,” Scott said, all sunshine and kittens as usual. 

“You’re an idiot if you think that,” Derek growled. “It took you weeks to stop trying to kill your friends, and they weren’t even made of food to you.”

“Man’s got a point,” Stiles chimed in, his voice still a little rough. All the wolves jumped and he couldn’t hold back a snort. 

“Fuck, don’t do that,” Jackson snapped. “It’s too weird not being able to hear you.”

“Why not? It’s your own medicine. Oh shit,” Stiles suddenly realised. “You can’t tell when I lie!”

“Uh, no offence, but your poker face isn’t great,” Boyd told him. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah? Well guess what: Isaac isn’t the only other virgin in the room.” He watched smugly as everyone turned to the person next to them in shock. 

“Fuck, is that true?” Erica demanded. Stiles just shrugged and smirked at her outrage. 

“That’s not important,” Scott said with the calmness of someone irrefutably deflowered. “We need to figure out how we’re feeding Stiles. I got Mom to bring me that blood today but she says she can’t just steal it from work, so that’s for emergencies only. Stiles, can you drink animal blood?”

Stiles opened his mouth to say he didn’t know, but Peter answered before he got the words out.

“No. It’s the magic, the lifeforce in the blood that keeps Stiles alive. Animals simply aren’t on the same metaphysical level, and would be scarcely better than water to him.”

“Like soul gems in Skyrim,” Stiles nodded, seeing understanding flash over Scott’s features. 

“Okay, in that case we’ll have to set up a schedule. Boyd, Derek and I can go to the back of the line, since—”

“I’m not letting him feed from me,” Derek cut in, eyes implacable. Scott frowned and looked like he was about to protest, so Stiles jumped in. 

“That’s fine. Isaac should also go to the back unless he loses his v-card, until I have more control. And the humans can go after the wolves.” The pack nodded their agreement and a schedule was mapped out without much fuss, Derek glaring at them the whole time. 

“What am I going to tell my dad?” Stiles wondered. 

“You can still see him when you’re not hungry. Just tell him you’re sleeping at mine until my grades are back up or something,” Scott suggested. Stiles nodded—it wouldn’t be the first time. “You’ll have to say you’re sick to get out of school for a little while, though.”

“That won’t be hard. He looks half dead already,” Erica said tactlessly. 

Stiles just shook his head. 

“All dead, actually.”

***

“You should be practising how to blend in, idiot,” Derek said as Stiles flashed over to the coffee machine. “What if you forget and move like that during school?”

“I’ll be fine, Der—” Derek lobbed an orange at his head and Stile snatched it out of the air effortlessly. 

“No.” Another orange—werewolves apparently took scurvy very seriously. This time Stiles made an effort to catch it ‘normally’. It wasn’t hard, but Stiles didn’t know that it would be instinct. Derek sighed. 

“I’m guessing you’re gonna spend the rest of our little slumber party faking me out, is that right?” Stiles wasn’t impressed with this plan. Derek just shrugged. “Great.”

That evening Stiles finally got a chance to go through Derek’s movie collection, settling down to watch while the other man periodically tried to hit him. Since the point was to react with human speed he succeeded most of the times, so Stiles got the chance to test out his healing factor as well. It seemed to be at least equal to a wolf’s.

They were halfway through The Princess Bride (Derek actually owned it on DVD, Stiles almost had a heart attack) when Erica showed up for Stiles’ dinner. He’d been feeling the hunger for a while now, vibrating as he tried to stay on his side of the couch. He couldn’t make his claws retract no matter how much Derek pushed him to and they were digging into to his palms and getting blood all over his jeans. For his part Derek was sitting warily on the other side, not even pretending to watch the movie as he clutched the stake in his lap. 

The sound of her car wound him up somehow tighter. Getting up to pace—at human speed or vampire, he had no idea—it felt to Stiles like it took an entire year for her to arrive. It took almost everything he had not to run out and drag her from her car but the look on Derek’s face somehow convinced him to wait for her to enter. 

“Hey Batman, you hungry?” She asked as she waltzed through the front door in a low cut top.  _ Jesus _ , Stiles thought, eyeing her decolletage ravenously. It’s was like she  _ wanted  _ to be eaten.  

“Starving,” Stiles growled around his teeth, watching her every move, a part of him distantly horrified by his inhuman behaviour.

Blinking at his tone Erica lost just a touch of her cocky demeanour. “Well, get over here, big boy,” she purred to cover her nerves, tossing her hair back and tilting her head to expose her neck.

Stiles blurred over to her but somehow held on for an extra second to glance into her eyes and confirm that she was sure. The words were still vibrating in her throat when he was sinking his teeth in. 

Her skin tore with a pop and Stiles actually  _ moaned  _ around the mouthful of blood, the taste of his friend’s life energy making him feel complete, making him feel real. Keeping a careful ear on her heart Stiles pulled in swallow after swallow until it started to slow and then somehow he pulled back. He heard the animalistic whine that escaped him as he tore himself away, but he couldn’t care less. She healed the wounds in seconds but he wasn’t going to leave good blood on the table, so to speak. Several long licks took care of the worst of it, goosebumps prickling the skin beneath his hands where he’d grabbed her forearms. 

Finally stepping away Stiles carefully wiped off the drips with his fingers and licked  _ that  _ up as well, too focused on his meal to see the surprisingly similar looks Erica and Derek were giving him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked when he was finished. 

Erica rolled her shoulders and gave him a thumbs up, the dorky gesture endearingly at odds with her bad-girl look. He grinned at her, high on her lifeforce.

“You know,” Stiles said, the blood filling him with energy and hot confidence, “I think I’m ready to go back to school.”

Derek stared at him like he’d suggested they go murder some puppies. “Stiles, you’ve been a vampire for  _ two days! _ ”

“Well, yeah, and I’ve been good that whole time! Look, I’ll keep sleeping here so I don’t go crazy in the night and attack some helpless human, but there are a minimum of five werewolves in the school with me at any given time. It’ll be  _ fine.” _

“You seem fine to me, Batman,” Erica said with a wink, completely undermining her message of support. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m not your mother. But if anyone gets hurt because of your stupidity I’ll call the vampire hunters here  _ myself. _ ”

“Shit yeah, I’ve never been so excited to go to school—wait, vampire hunters?”

Derek sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Whatever, Stiles was a delight. “You seriously thought there wouldn’t be vampire hunters?”

“Um, of course I  _ thought  _ of it, every other thought I’ve had since I got turned has been about Buffy. I guess I just… didn’t think they’d ever find me?”

“And they probably won’t, as long as you don’t kill anyone and leave suspicious bodies for them to hear about. Or tell Chris Argent.”

“Chris wouldn’t turn me in,” Stiles said, but he didn’t sound as sure as he’d wanted to.

Derek didn’t bother responding to that. 

“Well, no problem, you won’t need to go around draining people when you’ve got me babe,” Erica said, her words flirtatious but her tone sincere. Stiles smiled at her and waved goodbye after she declared herself out. 

“Well,” Stiles said, turning to Derek. “It’s come to that part of the evening. Are you going to stake me?”

Derek just looked tired. Shaking his head he stood. “Goodnight Stiles. Good work. I’ll most likely stake you in the morning,” he said as he climbed the stairs, startling a warm laugh out of Stiles. 

Smiling to himself Stiles lay down on the couch to luxuriate in the post-blood euphoria and, for the second time in as many nights, let Derek’s heartbeat lull him to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> babes, please tell me what you liked, i need the fuel if i'm ever going to finish this, and my cats are distressingly silent on the subject.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look! words! im so proud of me
> 
>  
> 
>  **Content Warning** : onscreen sexual assault of an unnamed character, implied suicide planning (but in the sense of 'for when i get to 800 and decide i'm ready to go')

 

“Have I mentioned I can’t believe Wall-E is your favourite animated movie?”

“Only about a _hundred_ _times_.”

“Sorry dude, it’s just blowing my mind. It’s kind of blowing my mind that you like movies at all.”

“Who doesn’t like movies?” There was a thread of something in Derek’s grumpy rumble that Stiles didn’t recognise.

“Um, Scott? He’s never cared about movies. And no offence but you kind of give off the impression that you hate fun.” Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t look at him. Stiles felt an inexplicable twinge of guilt. “Uh…” Stiles cast about for something to fill the suddenly awkward silence. “So, do you think it’s accurate?”

“What?” Derek frowned but actually met his eyes. 

“The movie. You think that’s how it’ll turn out? The future, I mean.”

Derek tilted his head slightly. It was in no way adorable. “I don’t know.” He appeared to really think about it. “It’s a reasonable possibility. That’s kind of the point.”

“That’s fair.” Stiles’ eyes drifted back to the screen. “Guess I—” Ice crystallised in his belly as he heard himself speak. On screen Wall-E showed Eva  _ Hello Dolly.  _ He felt Derek’s eyes on him. “...guess I’ll find out,” he said softly. Blackness edged in around his vision as he caught sight of his reflection in the TV. For the first time since he’d died he felt cold, freezing.

He was never going to die.

“Stiles!”  Derek barked, as if he’d been calling for some time. Flinching with his whole body Stiles snapped towards him, claws coming up to defend himself. “Calm down.”

“W-what?”

“You’re having a panic attack.”

Stiles stared at him, not able to understand why he was shaking. He wasn’t panicking. How could he be? You couldn’t hyperventilate if you didn’t breathe. “I’m not, I’m just—I’m just a little wigged out by the fact that I’m never going to grow old or get any taller or have a family and will eventually have to watch everyone I care about die—”

“ _ Stiles _ ,” Derek interrupted. 

“Oh—oh my god Derek, they’re all going to die—I can’t—I don’t want to live forever!”

“It’s okay.” Derek shifted uncomfortably. “Just… calm down.” Stiles made a feral noise and hid his face in his arms, shuddering, his claws tearing bloody furrows in his biceps. There was nothing Derek could say to make it better. And why should he try? One day he was going to be dead anyway. They all would be. 

“Stop, you—” Derek grabbed his hand and Stiles snarled, curling away into the corner of the couch. “Listen!” Derek snapped, fighting to keep hold of Stiles’ hand. With a strength he shouldn’t have possessed he wrenched it forwards to press against his ribs. “ _ Listen, _ ” he insisted. 

And Stiles did. The hot thump of Derek’s pulse thrummed against his palm, the sound echoing in his bones now that he let himself hear it. It was steady. 

Slowly the tension seeped from Stiles’ muscles, his teeth and claws retracting as hysteria settled into dull horror. 

_ One day I’ll hear it stop,  _ he thought, and jerked his hand away. 

“Thanks,” he said roughly, not looking at Derek.

“...it’s fine,” Derek rumbled, turning back to the TV. 

It didn’t occur to him to ask why Derek had helped until much later.

 

***

 

Stiles annoyed himself by waking up at dawn, filled with nerves about returning to school now that he wasn’t on a post-meal high. Too tense and hungry to relax he decided to go for a run. Streaking through the preserve as the sun came up did a passable job of distracting himself from his hunger. At one point he ran down a deer just to see if he could, letting it go once he found its blood smelled of tofu and oatmeal. 

By the time he got back there was a familiar Porsche in Derek’s driveway. 

“Good morning, Lydia!” Stiles said, trying for cheerful but fairly sure they could all sense the strain of holding back. “I see you brought me breakfast!” He gestured at Jackson, who was leaning insouciantly against the wall, and got a glare in response.  

“And a ride to school, if you’re good,” Lydia replied primly over the rim over her Starbucks. Stiles nodded tightly, turning to Jackson and keeping his distance. 

Jackson sneered. “I don’t see why I have to do this. Derek got out of it and no one questioned him, why do I gotta let Stilinski bite me?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this. Derek has a legitimate cultural complaint—” Derek snorted. “—and thinking Stiles is an asshole is not a good enough reason.”

“Yeah, but he’s not even—” Jackson tried.

“ _ I’m  _ the asshole—” Stiles muttered.

Lydia held up her hand and they both shut up. “Then how about because I say so, hmm sweetie?”

Jackson glowered but looked away. “Yeah okay.”

Stiles discovered that that ‘wanting to get on Jackson’s nerves’ was a great motivation to keep himself under control. Raising his eyebrows at the other boy Stiles stayed where he was, making it clear he expected Jackson to come to him. 

Jackson glared but when Stiles didn’t budge he rolled his eyes and stalked over, pulling his shirt off as he went. Stiles was interested to note that his heart rate was pretty high, and his scent carried hints of fear and… something else. 

Shaking his head to clear it Stiles sized Jackson up as he came to a stop in front of him, not quite close enough. 

“Just get it over with, Stilinski,” Jackson snapped. 

“You’re probably going to taste like shit,” Stiles grumbled, but reached out to grab Jackson by the hair and arm anyway, dragging him forward with his superior strength and setting his teeth against the rabbiting pulse.

“Well sorry some of us get laid—ow! Motherfucker!” Jackson jerked instinctively against Stiles’ grip as his fangs pierced the skin, but Stiles held him in place effortlessly. 

Jackson’s blood was like cool waterfalls and pools of sunlight. He was stiff against him at first, like Erica had been, but as the flavour of his blood warmed he relaxed into it. The longer Stiles drank the more Jackson leaned on him, going almost boneless. The suggestion of a noise rumbled in his throat and Stiles wondered what it was. His scent had grown spicy in Stiles’ nose, that hint of  _ something _ getting stronger. 

Feeling an inexplicable but irresistible urge Stiles dragged his teeth out of Jackson’s flesh and bit back down again, and Jackson made a desperate little sound and Stiles figured it out. 

He was turned on. 

Clamping down even tighter with his teeth Stiles remained vaguely aware that Jackson’s  _ girlfriend  _ was watching, a fact that managed to breach the blood haze just enough to keep him from doing something stupid. 

A few mouthfuls later Jackson’s pulse began to grow weak and Stiles knew it was time to back off. He’d taken more from Jackson than anyone else since the first night, but letting go felt like the hardest thing he’d ever do. 

Literally. 

“Stiles,” said Derek sharply, and somehow Stiles let go. He couldn’t resist the urge to lick Jackson’s collarbone clean, though, filing away the way Jackson shivered for… future reference.

“Well. I hope you two enjoyed that as much as I did,” Lydia mocked, eyebrows high but scent interested.

Stiles was too busy wiping his mouth to answer, but a glance at Jackson over his fingertips revealed he still had blood enough left in his body to stain his cheeks an appealing pink.

Derek looked at the ceiling as if to ask  _ why me?  _ “Get out of my house.”

 

***

 

Isaac was waiting for him when he got to school, still smelling delicious and looking vaguely embarrassed.  

“Yo dude, what’s up?” Stiles said, jogging over and ruthlessly ignoring the part of him that wanted to knock Isaac down and devour him in every sense of the word. 

“Scott wanted me to… see how you responded to me before you went inside,” Isaac said, hunching his shoulders and glancing away. 

“Oh. Well.” Stiles blinked. “It seems okay to me?”

Isaac looked back over, regarding him shrewdly despite the blush still on his cheeks. “Are you sure?”

Stiles shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah. I mean, you still smell great, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not gonna attack you or anything.” No matter how much he might want to.

Isaac nodded consideringly, and then took a cautious step forwards to knock their shoulders together. Stiles just grinned cheekily at him, definitely not imagining the other boy screaming beneath him. “Okay,” Isaac said, turning to lead the way into the school. 

The scent hit Stiles the moment he walked in, hundreds of warm bodies surrounding him on every side. He swallowed against the ache in his throat, looking into his classmates’ eyes and trying to think of them as  _ people.  _

It helped that there was so much sensory information unrelated to blood. The smell of lust and anxiety and boredom hung over the place, with an underlay of food and paper. Snatches of hundreds of conversations distracted him, only Derek’s persistent drills stopping him from snapping his head around as he listened. Stiles was thankful none of them were about him. He ego wasn’t  _ that _ robust, thank you.

He got through his classes okay, one wolf or another checking up on him between every period. Boyd let him feed from him in the afternoon when he felt his control start to slip, pressed together in the boys’ bathroom before lunch. 

Everywhere he went Erica seemed to follow him, asking with her expression  _ are they a virgin? What about them?  _ Stiles ignored her. 

“So how’s living with Derek?” Scott asked at lunch, wincing at just the thought of it. 

“It’s okay. He mostly just glares at me a lot.” Stiles shrugged. “He has a surprisingly good movie collection. I actually think it would be pretty cool if he weren’t sworn to hate my kind from birth or whatever.” Stiles resolutely ignored the tiny, miniscule part of him that was hurt by it.

Scott’s face twisted like he couldn’t comprehend sleepovers at the Hale house being ‘pretty cool’ under  _ any  _ circumstances, but he nodded anyway. 

Before he could reply Stiles heard a familiar voice drift through the cafeteria, some poor student having done something-or-other to upset Mr. Harris. Wincing as the teacher issued a cruel amount of detention in response to the (probably imagined) slight Stiles tried to refocus on the conversation between Scott and Isaac. Unfortunately their table was the closest one to the doors, which meant Harris had to walk right past Stiles to exit the room. Keeping his eyes down to avoid landing  _ himself  _ in detention—what a disaster  _ that  _ would be—Stiles jerked as he caught his scent. Feeling his eyes widen Stiles reached out and snatched Erica’s wrist, squeezing far too hard in his attempt to keep himself under control. She turned to look at him but he couldn’t move, not until Harris was gone, or he’d completely lose it. In his periphery he saw her glance around, trying to discern what had him vibrating in his seat when her eyes landed on their teacher’s retreating back. 

“ _ No, _ ” she breathed, and that was it. Almost hysterical giggles burst out of him, shocking the rest of the table who hadn’t noticed his earlier struggle to contain his mirth. “No!” Erica said again, face a mask of delighted shock. Stiles finally met her wide eyes and it was enough to send him into another gale of laughter, tears squeezing out of his eyes as his friends watched him like he was a crazy person. 

“What the hell, Stiles?” Demanded Scott.

“H-harris,” he choked, ribs aching as he gasped for breath he didn’t need. “He’s—he’s a—”

“Harris is a virgin!” Erica shrieked, sounding like Christmas had come early. The entire table stared at her in shock for a long moment while Stiles continued to laugh himself sick, and then Lydia snorted and that set off everyone else. Stiles could hear the whispers of the other students as the entire table lost their collective shit but that only made it funnier. Feeling some of the tension he’d been carrying around since the night he died bleed away Stiles wiped his eyes and grinned around at his friends, his pack. For the first time he thought maybe that fact that he was dead wouldn’t stop him from living. 

 

***

 

Things fell into a pattern after that. For the rest of the week he got picked up from Derek’s by the soup of the day, went to school, did homework and watched Some Sports at his father’s house for a couple hours before going back to Derek’s. After those first few days Derek had mostly made himself scarce, only showing up to glare at him over cereal or occasionally pretend he wasn’t watching whatever awesome thing Stiles had put on. By the time Friday rolled around Stiles was feeling tentatively optimistic. Scott was going to come over and spend the night at Stiles’ house so he could go home, a trial run to see if it was safe for him to move back.

Stiles  _ still  _ didn’t have his Jeep back from wherever his sire had dumped it (though Scott  _ swore  _ he was out trying to find it most nights), so Stiles usually got a ride home from someone. Tonight, however, Stiles had something he needed to do. 

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah. Do you guys sell colloidal silver?”

“Sure. Should be just over here.” The young shop assistant led him down an isle in the drugstore. “We have both liquid and pills.”

“Awesome, thanks.” Stiles grabbed a box of the pills and didn’t flinch at the price. 

He figured in 500 years his Pokemon cards would be worth a hell of a lot. 

_ “...stop....get...no!” _

Stiles froze, already halfway back to the house on foot. 

_ “Please!” _

There was no mistaking it. Right at the edge of his hearing, someone was begging.

Without stopping to think Stiles sprinted in the direction of the voice. 

_ “Get—mmf!”  _

The houses blurred by, the late afternoon sun glinting off their windows. Stiles was vaguely aware he shouldn’t be running like this when anyone could see, but he brushed it off, his focus narrowing to the strange woman’s sobs up ahead. 

“Shut  _ up _ ,” a man growled. “You fucking cocktease, this is what you get—”

Stiles bolted down an alley, his footsteps completely silent, and skidded around the corner.

Behind the building, crouched beside a dumpster, a heavyset man had his arm across a girl’s throat and his hand in her underpants. His forearm was covered in bloody scratches, both the girl’s knees bruised and weeping, her scrabbling heels leaving furrows in the dust. 

In less than one of the girl’s panicked heartbeats Stiles was before them. 

“No means no, fucker,” he rasped, and slammed the man’s head back against the dumpster. 

His skull fractured with a disgusting crunch, his body going limp. Without prompting the girl squirmed free, running for the street so fast she tripped and fell more than once. Stiles didn’t care. He’d already caught his prey. 

The man’s heart still beat sluggishly in his chest. Stiles bent down over him, letting the smell of beer and menthols fade beneath the crisp aroma of his blood on the concrete. He neck was tilted at a steep angle where he had fallen. Vulnerable. Stiles pounced. 

His fangs slid into the man’s sweaty skin like butter, the flavour of his blood sweetening the longer he drank. The increasingly erratic flutter of the man’s pulse sang to Stiles, pulling him deeper under its spell. For once there was no voice in his head or ears telling him to stop. Stiles revelled in the feast, finally letting himself go. 

It was simple; the man needed to die.

Eventually the man’s heart stuttered to a stop. Still Stiles drank, gorging himself until there was nothing left, until his victim was pale and cold and empty.

Finally drawing himself away Stiles sighed, feeling the deepest sense of peace he’d ever known. His skin was warm, for once, his belly full and his heart content. He closed his eyes. 

Wait.

Stiles’ eyes flew open, the sight of his victim’s bloodless face like a bucket of ice water. Staring down at his bloody shirt Stiles felt sick, stumbling behind the dumpster only to find he couldn’t throw up. 

“God,  _ fuck _ ,” he choked, the man’s blood still sweet on his tongue.

Without a single coherent thought Stiles turned and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kids i had some of this written already but writing the rest was really hard, and i have exams coming up that i'm super stressed about.... please tell me what you liked, your comments mean the fuckn world to me.
> 
>  
> 
> note: in this chap a bunch of highschoolers laugh about someone being a virgin as highschoolers are wont to do, but i just wanted to challenge it down here bc seriously, that shit is stupid as hell. have as much or as little sex as you want, babes, even stiles’ immortal life is too short to deal with that societal bullshit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this on the train instead of cramming. my exam is in two days so please enjoy this illicit update

“Well, you were trying to save that girl. That’s good, right?”

“I’m a  _ murderer,  _ Scott.”

“You were already kind of a murderer,” Lydia cut in. Stiles stared at her and she tossed her hair. “What did you think it was going to do when we set Peter on fire?”

“But that’s—”

“Different? Because Peter was a bad person?” She raised her eyebrows. 

Stiles blew out a breath but it did nothing to ease the sick weight on his chest. “I see the point you’re making but.... I  _ ate  _ someone, Lyds.” Her mouth pulled to the side judgmentally but she looked away. Stiles took a breath and tried to lighten the mood. “Not to mention it’s kind of hard to see myself as blameless with Derek staring at me like I personally set fire to his puppy.” He immediately regretted his phrasing but Derek’s expression didn’t change. It could be that it simply wasn’t possible for him to glare any harder, but Stiles had faith in Derek’s unlimited glowering potential. 

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re guilty or not,” Derek rumbled, looking like he was decidedly of the opinion that Stiles  _ was,  _ “since cops found the body first.”

“Isn’t stuff like this usually kept quiet? Like, how much information can they release to the press or whatever?” Asked Isaac.

“Doesn’t matter. The vampire hunters have sources in the police. They’ll know.”

Stiles sighed shakily and looked at his hands.

“We’re not going to let the hunters kill you, Stiles.” Scott’s reassurance held about as much value as a mother’s art critique. 

Stiles looked up at Derek through his hair. His mouth was set. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

***

Their little strategy session was going a whole lot of nowhere when Stiles heard an engine at the reaches of his hearing. His head snapped up towards the road and the wolves all looked at him and then tilted their heads in unison, listening for whatever Stiles’ sharper senses had picked up on. Stiles knew the moment it came into range for the wolves; Derek’s mouth tightened and he turned to stalk out into the drizzle.

The pack followed him, assembling on the lawn to wait for whoever it was to pull up. No one spoke; they were jaded enough by now to know that unannounced visitors never brought good news.

When the black SUV pulled into view Stiles had to bite back a growl. Derek and Scott didn’t bother, the rumble muffled by the fog and rain. Stiles knew human ears couldn’t hear it, but Chris Argent’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel anyway.

He pulled in as the pack drew closer together, a single unit getting soaked on the Hales’ front lawn. 

“What do you want,” Derek growled flatly. 

Chris’ mouth was set but he didn’t rise to the bait. “There’s a vampire in town,” he stated without preamble. Stiles flinched, but he knew the man couldn’t have detected it. “It’s killed once already, and what’s worse is the police have found out. I assume you know what’s coming next?”

“More hunters.” Derek’s words rumbled in his chest in an unmistakable threat. Chris didn’t react.

“Yes. And I know what you think of me, and whether or not I deserve it is besides the point. These hunters will make me look like your fairy godmother.”

“You taking me to the ball tonight, Mr. Argent?” Erica purred in with a deadly leer.

“Does that make Kate the evil stepsister?” Stiles snarked to cover his fear.

“A blue dress would really bring out your eyes,” Lydia said sweetly. 

Chris ignored all this admirably. “These people are fanatics, their order is like a cult. When they get wind of a vamp they do whatever it takes the kill it, including murder. The last town they went to had more exsanguinations  _ after  _ they arrived than before, and that’s not even mentioning the four girls they burned at the stake before they caught the right one.”

“Wait, I heard about that,” Isaac said nervously. “It was on the news. They thought it was a religious sect trying to start a witch hunt.”

The full weight of Chris’ attention fell on him. “They were wrong.”

Stiles curled his fists to hide his burgeoning claws, grinding his teeth together to relieve the ache of his fangs coming out. 

“That doesn’t tell me why you’re here,” Derek snapped. 

“The only way to prevent these psychos from wreaking destruction here is for us to kill it first and show them the body,” Chris gritted, temper finally beginning to fray. “Much as I loathe to admit it I can’t catch and behead it on my own. And I figured you would be the one person in this town who wants the thing dead more than I do.”

“You want to work  _ together? _ ” Derek spat with disgust.

“I don’t  _ want  _ to ever have to deal with you and your little teenaged gang ever again, but I  _ want  _ the vampire hunters gone even more.” Chris was breathing hard through his nose now. “And you and I both know you won’t be able to kill it on your own either. A single vamp could tear you all apart, but I have traps, poisons—”

“I don’t  _ care _ what you have, I’m  _ never _ going to work with you,” Derek said, a few decibels off a roar. It was only when Scott nudged Stiles with his shoulder that he realised he’d stopped breathing. 

This was all going very badly. Stiles knew that this display was partially for his benefit, but throwing any chance at an alliance was probably going to do more harm than good. Not to mention that if they protested too much Chris could get suspicious and start looking for vampires a little closer to home. Stiles felt his claws start to draw blood. On the other hand, if Chris ever found out Stiles was the vampire he might be forced to kill the man or face a second death. Stiles hunched, his pupils narrowing as his instincts screamed for him to kill the human threat. Forcing himself to breathe slowly Stiles tried to will his fangs to retract so he could speak, but every second the adults argued only ratcheted him up tighter. Without meaning to he let out a frustrated growl that only the wolves could hear, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Derek twitch towards him. Raising his head to meet the older man’s eyes Stiles abruptly remembered his panic attack, and what Derek had done to calm him down. Averting his gaze again Stiles wrapped his arms around himself and focused on Derek’s heartbeat. 

_ Thump. Thump. Thump.  _ The rain was gentle and warm against his icy skin. 

_ Thump. Thump. Thump.  _ His pack was all here, even Lydia, braving the wet to stand together against the threat.

_ Thump. Thump. Thump.  _ His gums ached sweetly as his teeth retracted, and Stiles heaved a sigh. 

“Shut up Derek,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as tired as he felt. “If this thing is a dangerous as he says then we don’t want it here. And if these hunters have Chris spooked then I sure as shit don’t want to meet them.” Derek glared at him vehemently, but Stiles had developed an immunity long ago. “I get that he’s kind of the enemy but aren’t we all learning a bit of a lesson about  _ working with the enemy  _ right now?” Stiles did his best to give Derek a significant look without arousing Chris’ suspicions. Derek made furious eyebrows at him that Stiles was pretty sure translated to  _ Have you forgotten  _ you’re  _ the vampire, you idiot?  _ Stile just shrugged. He didn’t know how to translate ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ into Eyebrow.

After a few more long seconds of glaring Derek relented. “Fine,” he growled, not really addressing Chris. “I’ll think about it.”

Chris looked like he wanted to continue arguing and Stiles shot him a venomous look that promised unending pain if he didn’t  _ shut his cakehole.  _ Chris blinked and his mouth closed with a click. He looked between the two of them and seemed to realise this was as good as he was going to get. 

“You know where I’ll be,” he said at last. “But don’t take too long. For once I want to stop the murdering psychopaths  _ before  _ they kill half the town.”

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered as he walked away. “That would be a first.”

***

“Dude, you don’t understand, you can’t smell it.”

“I can smell it just fine! It smells like steak!”

“It  _ smells  _ like when Mrs. Kerrigan kept having me over for dinner after my mom died so my dad could have more time alone to drink and always served overcooked beef on a bed of cabbage that had been boiling since before her marriage fell apart, only  _ without the beef.  _ That’s what it  _ smells  _ like.”

Scott was now making a face like he wanted to throw up, which was only fair, as that’s how Stiles had been feeling since Lydia had suggested this whole thing. 

“Well you don’t need to  _ eat it _ , just bite it a little? Come on Stiles, I can’t keep looking at its face knowing we’re about to hurt it, please hurry up.” Stiles looked down at the young buck he was pinning effortlessly, its brown eyes rolling with fear. 

“Chris won’t even notice if we don’t drain it.”

“He will! I’ll take it to Deaton’s for treatment and then he’ll definitely hear about it!” 

“Won’t he find it a little suspicious that you just happen to bring in an injured dear right when we’re all looking for evidence of a vampire?”

“No, I bring injured deer in all the time!” Scott said earnestly, and Stiles reminded himself that this was Scott McCall, Actual Puppy they were talking about. 

“Of course you do,” he muttered, and bent his face to meet the stag’s throat. It wasn’t hard to slide his fangs into the thick, throbbing vein running down its long neck, but the terrible taste and coarse bristle made him feel like he was sucking on a paintbrush. Letting the blood run out from between his lips Stiles left several ugly bite marks in the thick skin before pulling back. 

“God, the things I do for you, Scotty,” Stiles said, passing the struggling creature over to his friend. Scott smiled dopily at him as he got to his feet, animal cradled in his arms. 

“Thanks, bro!” He chirped, and ran off. Wiping the gross red liquid from his face Stiles ran back towards the loft were Lydia and Jackson were arguing about legal terminology while Derek tried to will himself into the afterlife. 

“ _ That _ ,” Stiles declared as he blurred to a stop in the middle of the room, “was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I once had to clean three-day-old puke off Scott’s ceiling.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow while Jackson appeared to contemplate whether it would be worth breaking his new no-touching-Stiles-except-at-feeding-time rule to punch him in the face. 

“It was necessary,” Lydia stated archly. 

“Debatable. There are plenty of ways we can misdirect Chris, none of which require me to  _ eat Bambi _ .”

She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It  _ was. _ I’ll never get the taste out of my mouth. Or the fur,” he added, heading into the kitchen.

“Boo hoo.”

“I think I’m permanently scarred. I may never forgive you.”

“Oh, I think you  _ will. _ ” Something in her tone made Stiles look up from the glass of water he’d been pouring himself. “It’s dinnertime after all, isn’t it?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that why you brought the meat?” He jerked his head at Jackson and pretended not to see him flinch. Or blush. “It isn’t his turn.”

“No,” Lydia said calmly. “It’s mine.”

Stiles froze. Jackson’s mouth pulled unhappily, but he didn’t look surprised. “Lydia—”

“I hope you’re not going to make me slap you, Stiles. I may prefer white gold but I’m not above a silver ring or two. I’m as much a part of this pack as anyone, and no one can tell me what I can and can’t do. It’s  _ my  _ blood, and I’ll give it to whoever I like. Not to mention that you aren’t all jumping up and down trying to protect _ Allison _ from a little blood loss. My bone marrow is just as functional as her’s is, thank you very much.” She hiked her chin and glared at him.

Stiles closed his mouth. “Uh.” He blinked. “Okay.”

Lydia nodded. “Good.” She rose from her perch on one of Derek’s armchairs and began rolling up her sleeve. 

Suddenly the idea of drinking her blood was a lot less academic. Her veins showed clearly through her marble skin, a delicate blue web in the alabaster. Her heart rate was slightly elevated, despite her calm expression. Her scent drifted enticingly in the air, sucking all the moisture from his mouth and overpowering the lingering taste of paint. 

Before he knew it Stiles was on his knees in front of her, mouth parted around his fangs, her fragile wrist caught in his stone grip. She jumped, startled by the sudden movement, and her heartbeat ticked up higher. “Are you sure?” He rasped, staring up at her hungrily.

She tossed her hair serenely, adrenaline sharpening her scent. “Of course I’m sure.”

As fast as it was, her heartbeat didn’t stutter. Stiles shuddered and lowered his head, dragging his nose against her fluttering pulse. “Wrist or elbow?” He pressed the words into her skin.

“Wrist—”

He sank his teeth in before the word was fully out of her mouth, her lips still pouting around the W. She gasped in pain and shock and Stiles drank the helpless sound in along with her sweet blood. Her free hand grasped his shoulder, tightening on his shirt with every mouthful. The longer he drank the more weight she rested on him, until her knees finally gave out. Without breaking his hold Stiles wrapped an arm around her waist and held her upright, pressed against him, her breath hot in his hair. 

Just as her hummingbird heart began to slow Stiles heard Jackson’s warning growl. Carefully disengaging his fangs from her wrist Stiles gently licked the wounds in a silent apology. Lydia shivered. In a flicker of movement Stiles was on his feet with Lydia cradled in his arms. He laid her carefully on the sofa and flashed to the first aid kit and in back in a moment. Jackson snatched it out of his hands, careful not to let their fingers brush, and began fussing over the bite marks. Lydia blinked dreamily at him and patted his hair as he did so. 

“Good to know you can drink from a human without killing them,” Derek said meanly, but Stiles was too full to care.

“Don’t be jealous, big guy. You and I have a whole star-crossed enemies-to-lovers thing happening here, Lydia can’t compete with that.” Derek made a disgusted face, but his heart wasn’t in it. Stiles grinned. “I’ll win you over yet, Der-bear. You’ll see.”

***

The day after Scott finally delivered his car, whole and unharmed, back into Stiles’ embrace he had  decided to drive it out to pick him and Isaac up from practice. They were taking their sweet time showing up, though, and Stiles was getting bored. The school parking lot was still populated with a handful of cars, most of them belonging to members of the team. One pickup had two military types sitting in it, obviously waiting for someone. Stiles felt for whichever student had those two dads. They weren’t even speaking to each other, just staring out the open windows in silence. 

“Did you see that pass?  _ God.  _ I wish Allison had been there to see that,” came Scott’s dreamy voice. Stiles looked past the truck to see the pair wandering towards his Jeep. 

“There’s a reason she’s banned from watching practice; when she does you’re too busy panting after her to get anything done.”

“Don’t be jealous, Isaac.” Scott had a teasing grin on his face as he shoved the taller boy. “You’ll get your v-card punched soon enough.”

“ _ Something’s  _ about to be punched,” Isaac threatened. 

Stiles noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye. Army Dad #1 had turned his head to watch the boys’ antics. Stiles frowned. He didn’t like the intent way his was observing them. 

“I knew it. You’re jealous of Allison.” Scott attempted to ruffle Isaac’s hair. Isaac put his hand on Scott’s face to push him away. “Aww, Isaac! I’ll take your virginity! We won’t let the big bad Stiles eat you!” Scott leaned over to try and press a messy kiss on Isaac’s face, which normally would have been cause for Stiles to get out his phone and start recording, but something about the way both men were now staring at the pair made the hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck stand up. 

The boys split up to go around the Jeep, Scott throwing himself into the passenger seat and Isaac folding himself up in the back. The men’s eyes followed them all the way in, and then Dad #2 made eye contact with Stiles. “Uhh… bro? What are you looking at?” Scott asked. 

Stiles looked away to start the car. 

“Nothing.” He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly i really hate this chapter. it just came out... Bad. but i have terrible anxiety about this exam and so i haven't studied.... plus i felt guilty about how long it's been since i updated. so i wrote something. i hope you liked it anyway?? if you did, or if you're new to this work, please please _please_ tell me what you liked, i am _such_ an anxious mess right now and i need all the validation that i am a competent human being i can get right now. and wish me luck on this exam. i'm not going to do well (´。＿。｀)


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